


A Most Unexpected Love

by Jade4813



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Christmas Secret Santa Exchange, F/M, Sabrina AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28317951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade4813/pseuds/Jade4813
Summary: Iris has loved Eddie Thawne Allen her entire life. When she returns home just before Christmas, it looks like she might finally have a chance to catch his eye…unless an accident puts his older brother, Barry, directly in her path. Story inspired by Sabrina (with some quotes lifted more or less directly from the source material).
Relationships: Barry Allen/Iris West
Comments: 39
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sophisticatedloserchick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophisticatedloserchick/gifts).



For almost as long as she could remember, Iris Ann West had been in love with Eddie Thawne Allen. That it was utterly hopeless was a lesson she had learned at the tender age of eleven, but since she had lost her heart to him at age six, that knowledge hardly did any good. Eddie – or Eobard, named after a great-great-great-grandfather or some such; Iris could never remember, but it was far too stodgy of a name for him anyway – was the younger son of Henry and Nora Allen, her father’s wealthy employers. So of course he was leagues above her. But that didn’t matter; her love had never been dependent upon reciprocation. For most of her life, she had been content to worship him from afar.

She would never forget the moment he had first captured her heart. They had just moved into the Allens’ home – her dad having just started his new job as the head of their security team – when the gardener’s son, Christopher, had stolen her favorite toy. Four years older (and a good foot taller) than she was, Christopher had taunted her with his prize, dangling it over her head and pulling it out of her reach in an attempt to make her cry. Iris had been about to punch him in the nose for his trouble, since her father’s lessons on self-defense extended beyond his employers – when Eddie had appeared out of nowhere. He’d retrieved her toy from her tormenter, offered the other boy a stern word of warning, and handed it back to her with a kind smile.

It was in that moment that Iris’s heart had been lost. He had swooped in from out of nowhere to save the day, and it didn’t matter that her day didn’t actually _need_ saving. He’d been her hero nevertheless. He had been like a knight in the fairy tales her mother had read her when she was younger; all tall and blonde and perfect.

Of course, since he was the younger son of the family and she was the daughter of a member of staff, Eddie and Iris seldom interacted. He often seemed oblivious to her very existence, in fact, but that did nothing to quell her devotion to him. She was content to watch from the sidelines as he charmed children and adults alike, always shining like the brightest star in every room he occupied. She marveled at his easy manners and infectious smile, and as she grew older, she imagined what it would be like to have that smile turned upon her.

On the other hand, his brother Bartholomew – three years older than Eddie and herself – couldn’t have been more different. Where Eddie was easy-going, Bartholomew was reserved. Where Eddie approached life with a laugh and consequences with a devil-may-care attitude, his brother approached each decision with careful deliberation. And where Eddie lit up every room he entered, Bartholomew tended to remain on the sidelines. Rarely penetrating her conscious awareness, at least when Eddie was around.

Iris didn’t have any reason to dislike the elder brother. In fact, he’d always been unfailingly polite to her. One day, shortly after they’d moved in, he’d caught Iris reading in the garden and had invited her to borrow from his family’s library in a surprisingly thoughtful gesture. He had offered to teach her how to ride a horse – a proposal she’d quickly declined because horses had frightened her at that age. When she was ill, he brought by soup prepared by their chef, and she always found gifts he had chosen for her and her father under the tree at Christmas.

But all of that was to be expected, she supposed. Bartholomew (who had asked her to call him Barry years and years ago, but that seemed entirely too _in_ formal for him) was Henry and Nora’s oldest child. He would take over the family businesses in due course. He was only doing what someone in his situation would be expected to do. And so it was that Iris was content to fan the flames of her one-sided infatuation of Eddie while maintaining a polite if distance cordiality with Bartholomew. Until one fateful day when she was sixteen.

She had been walking through the woods when she somehow stepped badly, tripped over a root, and rolled her ankle on the way down. Unable to bite back her sharp cry of distress, Iris had fought back tears as she cradled the injured area, in too much pain to put weight on it so that she could return home.

Then, out of the woods, like an angel come down from Heaven, _he_ had appeared to act as her hero once more, Bartholomew at his side. They had been strolling nearby when they’d heard her cry out and had rushed to her aid. Eddie hadn’t even hesitated before he kneeling next to her, asking if she was okay, while his brother had stood back a bit, watching her in concern. He had said nothing as Eddie verified that her ankle indeed seemed sprained, but Iris didn’t really care. Eddie was there, mere inches away, cradling her ankle in his lap and staring at her with those blue, blue eyes. Bartholomew could have been on the moon for all she’d noticed him.

Pain or no pain, she could have stayed like that all day, except that Eddie had jumped to his feet and offered to fetch her father to come help. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary,” she’d protested, aching at the all-too-brief encounter.

Meanwhile, Bartholomew had begun in his typical, reasonable tone, “We could probably—”

But Eddie wasn’t listening. “I’ll be right back!” he’d promised before turning and darting back towards home, and Iris had let out a frustrated sigh. Bartholomew had followed suit, his attention darting from Iris to his brother’s back before looking at Iris again.

She hadn’t known what he was thinking; but, then, she’s rarely thought about Bartholomew at all and had in fact almost forgotten his presence until he’d spoken again. “It may be a while for him to find your dad, and you can’t just sit out here indefinitely. Do you think you could walk a little if I helped support your weight?”

It had been (naturally, given the speaker) a perfectly reasonable solution, but Iris was unjustly irritable at him for having made it. She’d been hoping Eddie would return to sweep her into his arms and carry her back home himself. Sure, it seemed unlikely he would do so, and she certainly hadn’t twisted her ankle with any such plan in mind. But she’d thought it would have been _nice_. Indeed, it would have been the perfect opportunity for her to get closer to Eddie (if he’d only return without her dad in tow), and now his brother was _ruining it_.

She’d let out a small huff of frustration. “I guess,” she’d grumbled rather churlishly. Bartholomew had blinked a few times, seemingly taken aback by her mood, but he’d moved to crouch at her side nonetheless. Moving slowly, with almost uncharacteristic uncertainty, he had wrapped his arm around her waist and steadied her as she lumbered to her feet. When she let out a soft hiss of pain at putting weight on her injured ankle, he had shifted his hold on her so that he was carrying a greater amount of her weight on that side.

Setting her chin in a determined angle, Iris had hobbled forward several steps, feeling a little guilty about her uncharitable thoughts as she wished it was Eddie by her side. Even still, she couldn’t help but be annoyed that it was Bartholomew instead. Why hadn’t he gone for help and left his brother behind? Then things would have been _perfect_. Her pain would have been worth it.

She’d let out a heavy sigh of frustration, and she felt Bartholomew shift his hold on her again. “Are you okay? Do you need to take a break?”

“No, I just – ow!” she’d cried out, so distracted by thoughts of how wonderful it would be if she was spending this time with Eddie that she stepped wrong and caused a sharp stab of pain to radiate from her ankle.

He’d pulled her to a halt, holding her steady while she caught her breath and waited for the swell of pain to subside. Finally, when she was able to straighten slightly again, he’d offered tentatively, “You know…I’m really scared we’re going to make your ankle worse if we keep this up. I-if you want, I could, um, I could…carry you?”

“What? No! Don’t be ridiculous!” she’d cried automatically, even as her mind had conjured images of Eddie lifting her into his strong arms to carry her home. Her head would have rested perfectly against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Even when they returned home, he wouldn’t have put her on her feet right away, as reluctant to release her as she would be set free. He’d stare into her eyes and, in that moment, he would realize what had been in front of him all along. He’d open his mouth to finally say the words she’d been longing to hear for so long. _“Iris, I—”_

“Well, I think it’s going to start raining soon, and that might make everything worse,” Bartholomew had pointed out pragmatically, throwing a bucket of cold water all over her fantasy.

She’d huffed and looked around, praying she would see Eddie rushing back to her. Regrettably, he’d been nowhere in sight. She’d glowered up at the grey clouds above, her irritation growing when she realized it did indeed look like rain. Frustrated at her thwarted fantasies, she’d dropped her gaze to Bartholomew’s and snapped, “Why did you have to be you? Why couldn’t you have gone to get my dad and left Eddie behind?”

She’d felt badly about her words the moment they’d left her mouth, as Bartholomew’s head had jerked back as if she’d slapped him. She’d braced herself for him to snap at her, but he hadn’t, which somehow had made her feel worse. Instead, he’d cleared his throat and asked, “I understand if you don’t want me to – well, if you’d rather take a break and rest for a minute. I’m sure Eddie will be back soon. We can find a place for you to sit so you’re not putting weight on your ankle.”

Feeling wretched and ashamed, Iris had dropped her gaze to the ground as she mumbled, “No. I-I want to go home now. Please.”

He’d nodded, one swift, decisive, jerk of his head. Bending to loop his arm behind her knees, he’d said, “Okay. You ready? Go ahead and put your arm around my neck, and make sure you keep your weight on me. I’m going to pick you up in three…two…one.”

She’d never really thought about Bartholomew’s physical strength – other than to think it came second to Eddie’s, as all things did. So she’d been somewhat surprised to find how easily he lifted her and carried her back toward the house, his long legs eating up the distance with surprising speed. He hadn’t even sound winded as he stepped onto the gravel pathway leading to the side door that was closest to the rooms she shared with her dad. Whether she’d have been able to hear his heartbeat if she rested her head against his chest, she didn’t know, since she’d flatly refused to put her head there.

They’d remained silent the entire way back to her door, but when he’d put her gently back onto her feet, the good manners her parents had drilled into her head overcame her embarrassment. Her gaze fixed somewhere around his feet, she’d mumbled, “Thank you for helping me get home, and I’m sorry. About earlier, I mean. I was in a bad mood, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I appreciate your help. Really.”

“It’s okay,” he’d told her sheepishly. “I understand. You love Eddie.” Mortified, she’d shot a look at his face, and he’d lifted his hands in an appeasing gesture. “I’m not judging! Lots of people love my brother. He’s always been lucky like that. It’s just, I thought for once—” His voice had trailed off, and she watched as his cheeks turned red.

Though she’d suspected she should leave it alone, she hadn’t been able to help herself. “What?”

Bartholomew had sighed, his shoulders lifting and falling in an awkward shrug. “I thought you saw _me_.” Scowling, he’d looked away from her before mumbling, “Anyway, you should take it easy on that ankle. I’ll have my dad stop by and check on you when he gets a chance.”

“Thanks,” she’d said, but he’d merely nodded at her and walked away, shoving his hands into his pockets, his head bowed.

She hadn’t realized it at the time (and wouldn’t have cared even if she had), but that would be the last time that she and Bartholomew would be alone or speak honestly with each other for several years. She’d never have cause fault him for his manners; he remained unfailingly polite and even thoughtful in his choice of gifts for her and her dad on birthdays and holidays. But from that moment in the woods, the distance between them only continued to grow.

By the time Iris left for college, she and Bartholomew were all but strangers, and Eddie had still never seemed to really register her existence. Perhaps the latter was a blessing, because it might have made it easier for her to go. She couldn’t believe her luck when was admitted to her top-choice school overseas and was even more astonished when she received a scholarship to attend from an anonymous benefactor.

Her first few months at the school were bittersweet; she missed her dad, he friends, and of course Eddie. But over time, her fixation on Eddie lessened, even if her devotion did not. She made new friends, explored new interests, and even went on dates with other men. And every so often, she’d read the society pages back home to see what the Allen family were up to in her absence. It seemed like every week, Eddie had a new woman on his arm – a fact which initially brought her pain but which she eventually was able to accept with an indulgent laugh.

And then the unthinkable happened. Almost a year after she left, Henry Allen died unexpectedly, and Iris managed to get a few days off school to return home for the funeral. Her first encounter with Eddie upon her return caused her heart to race no less than it had before, but she noticed with some degree of surprise that it was _Bartholomew_ she couldn’t stop watching at the funeral.

Later, she would console herself with the thought that her attention had likely not been entirely consumed by Eddie because his open display of grief had garnered the attention of many – including several pretty ladies – who seemed eager to congregate around him to offer their sympathy and support. Bartholomew, on the other hand, remained somewhat apart, staying silent until approached directly. While most attendees to the funeral watched Eddie, Bartholomew watched his mother, offering her a glass of water or his arm for support whenever her strength seemed to flag.

Once – just once – as the coffin was being slowly lowered into its eternal resting place, Bartholomew looked up and met her eyes. His features were frozen, but she saw his eyes were red, filled with tears that he refused to shed, and her heart broke for him. It was then that she remembered his words from the last time they had really spoken. _“I thought you saw_ me _.”_

He looked away quickly, and Iris tried to turn her attention back to Eddie. But when the service had concluded and they returned to the Allen home for the repast, Iris found herself preoccupied with thoughts of how Bartholomew was faring. She wanted to talk to him, to make sure he was okay, but she didn’t get a chance since she only saw him briefly, as he was busy seeing to his guests’ comfort and making sure they had enough refreshments to go around.

It seemed strange, that he would spend such an event worrying about other people. So it felt perfectly natural that she should want to check on him, to offer him her condolences for his loss. With that in mind, she’d sought him out, eventually finding him in his father’s study, hands clasped behind his back as he stared gravely out the window.

Inexplicably shy in his company – though she’d never been so before – Iris approached without a word, taking a position at his side. If he needed her, she would be there for him, but if he would rather his peace be undisturbed, she wouldn’t pressure him. After a moment, she saw him turn toward her and took this as an invitation to speak. “I don’t mean to disturb you. I just wanted to tell you that so sorry about your dad,” she murmured softly, the words sounding inane in her own ears.

He paused, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed heavily before he could speak, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you. I’m, uh, I’m glad you could come. It would have meant a lot to him. He – he thought very highly of you, you know.”

“The feeling was mutual,” she said with a wistful smile. In her position as daughter of an employee, she couldn’t claim that she’d ever been terribly close with either Henry or Nora Allen. Or with their children, come to that. But the elder Allens always been kind to her, taking an interest in her when she was in their presence and remembering her when she wasn’t. She tried for something profound – or at least comforting – but her brain resorted to inanity once more as she offered a lame, “He’ll be missed.”

Bartholomew nodded, turning his attention back to the window, and Iris almost took that as her cue to leave except that he spoke again. “Your dad has been very proud of you this year. I’m sure you won’t be surprised to hear that he takes every opportunity to tell everyone who’ll listen how well you’re doing.” She didn’t know what to say to that, so she didn’t say anything at all, and a brief silence fell between them once more. Eventually, he broke it by asking, “Do you like it? School, I mean.”

Iris recognized he was probably looking for anything to talk about that would take his mind off his own grief, and so she lingered, turning to look out the window as well. “For the most part. I can’t say I love all the classes, and it was hard at first, being so far from home. But I’ve made some friends, and I just got a part-time job that’s flexible with school and will tide me over between semesters.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Oh, I thought you might come home over breaks.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I thought about it. But I decided I wanted to get a job and help out, and my dad said he’d come visit me whenever he can.”

Bartholomew let out a soft sound in the back of his throat. “Well, if there’s ever anything else you need, all you need to do is ask.” She didn’t immediately catch that strange word, _else_ , and wouldn’t until she was on the plane back home, too late to ask him what it meant. Instead, when she started to thank him, he waved it away, visibly uncomfortable by her gratitude. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re enjoying school,” he said, glancing down at her once more. “You should do something that makes you happy.”

She started to reply, but unfortunately (though she wouldn’t register the misfortune of it for some time), it was just then that Iris heard a loud sob behind her and looked over her shoulder to see that Eddie in the hallway, surrounded by his usual phalanx of admirers. She hesitated, inwardly debating stepping out to check on him but not wanting to abandon the man by her side. Her indecision became moot, however, as by the time she turned back to her companion, Bartholomew had walked away. She looked around just in time to see him step through an adjoining door, and though she cried out after him, he seemed not to have heard her as the door swung closed behind him.

It occurred to her on her long flight back to school that she was always a victim of timing when it came to Bartholomew. But what did that matter? Her heart did – and always would – belong to Eddie. There weren’t many things she was certain of in the world, but she was certain of that.


	2. Chapter 2

Iris squinted at the glare of the sun reflecting off the fallen snow, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of her purse and sliding them on before grabbing the handle of her suitcase and giving it a tug. It had been a long journey, but she was finally home, arriving just in time for the holidays. Her father was supposed to pick her up from the airport, but she’d jumped at the opportunity to take an earlier flight than originally scheduled. It would make a tremendous surprise for him, she decided upon landing, and so she walked purposefully toward the taxi station, rather than calling to update him on her change of plans.

The drive didn’t take long, but she still needed to stretch some kinks out of her muscles when she stepped out of the car and fixed the Allen house with a critical eye. It looked almost exactly as it had in her memory, though it appeared someone had affixed the shutters with a new coat of paint at some point in the three years since she’d last stood in this spot. She’d missed this place, she realized, as well as all the people who worked there. Not to mention Eddie. She could never forget how much she’d missed Eddie.

But Eddie wasn’t her primary concern at the moment. She ran a hand down the fabric of her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. She wanted to look her best for her first meeting with her dad. Of course, they’d seen each other numerous times over the last three years. He’d come to visit her at school, and they Facetimed at least once a week. But this was her first time coming home as a college graduate – and an adult woman who had proved herself capable of running her own life. She wanted to make him proud.

Thanking the driver, she passed him a tip before grabbing her bag, pulling it behind her as she approached the house. It was rather heavy, so she pulled it to the side of the house, where it would be out of the way until she could retrieve it later. Then she stepped indoors on a quest to find her father.

Knowing he often stopped by the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, she decided to head in that direction first. On the way, she heard the clattering of balls knocking together in the game room and peered in on her way past, curious to know who was inside. Her heart skipped a beat when she caught her first glimpse of Eddie, his tousled blond hair falling expertly across his forehead as he leaned over to line up his cue stick with the ball. As though sensing her presence in the doorway, he glanced up and straightened abruptly at the sight of her, his eyes growing wide.

“Wow. I mean, hi,” he greeted her with that boyish grin that had captured her heart so many years before.

Feeling a little shy, as she always did in his presence, she threw him a small smile. “I don’t mean to disturb you. I was just looking for someone.”

“Whoever it is, I’m happy to pretend I’m him if it means you stick around,” he reassured her hastily, setting his pool cue aside.

The obviousness of his pickup line, combined with the headiness that his attention was focused on _her_ for a change and the astonishment that he didn’t seem to recognize her, made her laugh. “I’m afraid not,” she said, pulling off her sunglasses so she could get a better look at him. How could he not know her? Granted, it had been a few years, but they’d grown up together, and she didn’t think she’d changed _that_ much.

But still, while she was a little disappointed in his continued ignorance of her identity, she was warmed by the gaze he swept over her body. “Let me guess…you’re looking for Barry. He’s always had all the luck. Well, today is also _your_ lucky day because he happens to be my brother. So I’m pretty much the same thing, right?”

As he teased her, he threw her another one of his devastating grins, prompting her to laugh again. “I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. As tempted as she was to linger and bask in the glow of his flirtation, she couldn’t wait to see her dad, so she took a step back, intending to walk away.

Eddie wasn’t content to let her go, as he bounded after her. Taking position by her side, he walked with her as he chided her gently, “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh? And here I was, hoping we could get to know each other better.”

Iris threw him a wry look out of the corner of her eye. “Really? And here I was, thinking you just liked the chase but you wouldn’t know what to do with me if you caught me.”

“That is categorically untrue!” he protested, feigning offense. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand gently, and Iris thrilled in the warmth of his touch. “But, you know, I won’t be able to prove that to you if you don’t let me catch you.”

“I suppose that’s true,” she conceded, humoring him. Then, succumbing to curiosity, she pressed, “You really don’t recognize me?”

She knew full well that Eddie wasn’t a good enough actor to feign the surprise that crossed his features. “Why? Should I? I can’t imagine we’ve ever met. I’d _definitely_ remember you.”

“You might be surprised,” she returned in a dry tone.

Eddie might have lost the battle, but he wasn’t about to concede the war. Instead, he pressed, “Well, that’s all the more reason for you to give me a chance. I tell you what. We’re having a Christmas party here tonight at eight o’clock. Say you’ll come. We can catch up on old times, just the two of us.”

Chuckling, Iris shook her head. “You don’t give up, do you?” she asked, secretly pleased with his efforts. After all these years, he’d finally noticed her. He was finally chasing after _her_. Perhaps it was small of her to revel in their altered circumstances, but recognizing that fact did nothing to change it.

“Nope,” he replied with a shameless grin.

Iris nodded. “All right. I’ll see you tonight. Eight o’clock.” His display of elation at her agreement didn’t even come close to that which she secretly felt. She managed to hide her smile until she walked away and turned a corner. Then it was all she could do to bite back her shriek of joy. It was all she’d ever hoped for, catching Eddie’s eye, and the reality was so far better than she’d even imagined.

That night, Iris gave her reflection one more critical look before leaving her room and heading to the party. Her dad had been overjoyed to see her, but his happiness had been diminished slightly when he’d heard about her interaction with Eddie. She knew he was just worried about her; he’d never approved of her attachment to the younger Allen son. Though he loved the family and would give his life for any of them, he’d confessed he didn’t think Eddie was good enough for her, but she’d always dismissed his opinion as being clouded by paternal affection and a life-long overprotective streak.

His concern did nothing to diminish her excitement, and so she’d shrugged it off as she’d dressed into one of her favorite gowns, obtained during her studies abroad. Floor-length and deep red in color, it was strapless, with a chiffon skirt and beaded top with a sweetheart neckline. It was the perfect dress for a holiday party, and – more importantly – she knew it would draw Eddie’s eye.

She was almost skipping with joy as she walked into the party, her eyes sweeping over the crowd looking for one face in particular. But it wasn’t Eddie who caught her eye first; it was Bartholomew. Tall and lanky – and able to wear a tuxedo like he was born into it, even more than his brother (though it seemed traitorous of her to think so) – he’d always stood out from a crowd. She’d recognize him anywhere, even when his back was to her as it was now. She watched as the tall redhead before him said something to him, nodding toward Iris in the doorway. He turned to follow her gaze, his face breaking into a heart-warming smile when he caught sight of Iris.

She watched as he said something to his companion and then raced toward her, stopping barely a foot away. For just a moment, she thought he was going to pull her into a hug, but he didn’t. Instead, he smiled at her warmly and cried, “Iris! You’re home? Why didn’t you come by and say hi? How was your trip?”

Before she could answer, Eddie appeared as though out of nowhere, stepping in front of his brother. “You came!” he said gleefully. “I wasn’t sure you would.” When Bartholomew cleared his throat, Eddie stepped to the side and looked at his brother in surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I – wait, do you two know each other?”

Bartholomew looked at his brother in confusion and concern. “You’re kidding, right? It’s Iris.” When Eddie didn’t seem to register the name, he prodded, “West? Joe’s daughter?”

Eddie’s head whipped around in surprise. “What, really? Iris?” As his gaze swept over her again, understanding dawned in his eyes, and he pulled her into a tight hug. “Oh my god, it’s so good to have you back! Now you really _have_ to dance with me. Let’s go.”

He grabbed her hand and started to pull her away, and she was more than happy to follow, but his brother intervened. Clearing his throat, he moved slightly into Eddie’s path and cautioned him, “Is this really a good idea? How is Patty—”

Eddie cut him off. “Barry, I know that you excel at being a stick-in-the-mud, and you’re twenty-five going on eighty. But it’s a party! Surely you can go bore someone else? Iris just got here.” It was the first time in her entire life that she could recall being so taken aback by or disagreed with Eddie’s behavior, and when he grabbed her hand to pull her onto the dance floor, she hung back. Finally, her reluctance seemed to get through to him, because he stopped to ask her what wrong.

“I know he’s your brother, and the two of you…well, you don’t always get along. But that was unfair. He a little serious, but he isn’t a bad guy,” she reprimanded him gently.

He grimaced. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” He gave her another one of his boyish grins, which had gotten him out of trouble over his entire life. “I’ll apologize to him later, too. But for right now, I really do want to dance with you.”

Iris almost protested, but then she was in his arms and he was sweeping her around the dance floor, and it was better than she’d ever dreamed. She felt herself get lost in his eyes, barely noticing when the song changed to something soft and slow and he pulled her closer, tempting her to rest her head on his shoulder.

“You know what I want?” he murmured in her ear. “I want to dance with you.”

“You are dancing with me,” she shot back with a slight laugh.

His grin was unrepentant. “I want to dance with you alone. It’s too public here; we can’t really talk.” Then, as though the idea had just occurred to him, he added, “Hey, there’s something you should see.”

She’d seen him pick up enough women that she knew what he was about to suggest. He was going to suggest that she meet him in his mother’s solarium. He would meet her there with a bottle of champagne and two glasses, and they would dance under the twinkling lights that were undoubtedly strung along the ceiling in observance of the upcoming holiday. While they danced, he would woo her with his words, and then they would kiss. Just because it was a scene she knew had played out dozens of times didn’t means she didn’t want to be a part of it.

“Okay,” she breathed, swaying toward him.

“Meet me in my mom’s solarium?” He paused, grimacing, as he realized that she wasn’t like most of the women he courted in this manner. “Oh, I just realized…you’ve probably already seen my mom’s solarium, huh?”

Afraid this hitch in his plans would cause him to grow skittish, she reassured him, “But I haven’t seen it in years! Will you show it to me?”

“I’d love to.” He danced her closer to the exit and came to a stop, though he didn’t immediately release her. “Head over, and I’ll follow you in a minute. I want to grab a bottle of champagne first.”

“Sure,” she breathed, watching with a wistful smile as he stepped away. The entire stroll to the solarium, she felt like she was walking on air.


	3. Chapter 3

“You can’t do this.” Barry’s voice over his shoulder caused Eddie to freeze and prompted a groan of frustration.

“Don’t start—”

“You’re engaged! Did you forget that? What is Patty going to think if she finds out that you’re spending your evening trying to seduce another woman in mom’s solarium?”

“It’s a dance!” he huffed irritably. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little? It’s just a dance!”

Barry wasn’t ready to let it go. “It’s never _just_ a dance with you. Or did you forget I’ve seen you do this a hundred times.”

“Not a hundred—“ he began.

“Eddie,” Barry growled.

“Have you forgotten you’re my brother? You’re not mom, and you’re _certainly_ not dad. I don’t know what makes you think you have any say in my love life—”

“Okay, I’m not mom or dad, but she’s also not like all the other girls you’ve flirted with. She’s Iris. Joe’s daughter. Remember? You can’t just flirt with her and then send her away with a pair of diamond earrings when you get bored with her and want to move on.”

Eddie’s expression darkened. “How dare you talk about Iris like that!”

“I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about you. _Iris_ is amazing. She always has been. _You_ are fickle.”

His eyes growing wide, Eddie tried to turn the tables on him. “Wait, I know what’s going on here! You have a crush on her, don’t you?”

Barry sighed in exasperation. Rolling his eyes, he said firmly, “No. I don’t have a crush on her. This isn’t about that.”

“I was going to say. She deserves someone…”

“What, better?” he prompted when his brother’s voice trailed off.

Eddie shook his head. “No. You’re a great guy – _that_ isn’t your problem. But she deserves someone more exciting.”

“Maybe,” he conceded. “But she also deserves someone who isn’t engaged, don’t you think?”

Sliding two champagne flutes into the back pockets of his pants, Eddie grabbed a bottle of Dom Perignon from a passing waiter and pointed out, “That wasn’t my choice, you know. You were the one who pushed me into it. Was it really worth selling your own brother out for the sake of a merger?”

“Selling you out?” he spluttered in indignation. “You’re acting like I twisted your arm! Do I need to remind you that all I did was introduce the two of you and encourage you to ask her out on a date. _One date_.” Eddie seemed eager to wave away this statement of fact, so he pressed, “ _You_ were the one who continued to see her. _You_ were the one who decided to propose.”

“Actually, she asked me,” Eddie interjected.

“And you said yes,” Barry shot back. “So don’t blame me for seeing good business sense in a decision _you_ made.”

He grunted, pushing past Barry to head towards the solarium. “Either way, having Iris back has made me realize that I may have made a terrible mistake. I mean, Patty’s great, but Iris…” His voice trailed off with a wistful smile. “She’s amazing. She’s exciting and funny and beautiful…”

“And you didn’t even realize that we basically grew up with her,” Barry pointed out in a dry tone.

“Look, I know you’re skeptical, but you don’t understand!” Eddie protested, striding purposefully toward the solarium. “There’s just…there’s something about her. She’s amazing.”

“So you’ve said,” he pointed out, rolling his eyes all the while, only to be ignored.

“I’m think…no, I _know_ I’m falling in love with her!”

“Oh my god,” Barry muttered, running a hand down his face as he followed in Eddie’s wake. Grabbing his brother by the arm, he all but forcefully dragged him into the first open door they came across, bringing them both into the library. “Can you just…can we be reasonable about this? You can’t be falling in love with her. You don’t even _know_ her!”

“You’re the one who pointed out we basically grew up together,” Eddie pointed out as he paced back and forth across the library carpet.

Barry fixed him with a sardonic look. “A fact which clearly made an impression, since you needed me to tell you about it. I mean, can you even tell me what you find so amazing about her?” When a shadow passed over his brother’s face and the younger man opened his mouth to argue, he clarified, “Again, this is about you. Not her. I mean, I know why _I_ think she’s amazing, but you didn’t even remember her until five minutes ago!”

Eddie threw him an obstinate look, his jaw set in a mulish line. “I can’t explain it. She’s just different,” he grumbled angrily.

Realizing he was approaching this entirely the wrong way, Barry took a deep breath held up his hands in a placating gesture until the two of them had calmed down a little. When he tried again, he even tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Okay, so Iris is different. She makes you feel things you’ve never felt before. You can’t picture a future without her. _But_.”

Eddie crossed his arms across his chest, but he didn’t interject, allowing Barry to continue. “Remember who we’re talking about. This is _Iris_. She grew up watching you. She’s seen every trick in your playbook. She knows it’ll start with dancing in the solarium. Then you’ll sweep her off her feet to a romantic weekend in a cottage on Martha’s Vineyard. You’ll get tickets to some sold-out show on Broadway and romance her with a carriage ride in the park. Dinner and drinks and a kiss under the stars on some rooftop overlooking the city. And then – _and then_ – you’ll get bored with her _as you always do_ , and it’ll be diamond earrings hand-delivered to her doorstep. Maybe an accompanying bracelet if you’re feeling particularly sentimental. And that’ll be it. That’s goodbye. You may think she deserves better than me, and you’re probably right. But don’t you think she also deserves better than _that_?”

“That isn’t fair! Okay, maybe that’s what I’ve done before, but this is different! _She’s_ different! I lo-aaargh!” Eddie’s protestations broke off with a shriek of pain as he threw himself dramatically onto the sofa nearby, forgetting about the champagne flutes in his back pockets. They shattered with an audible crunch, the broken glass tearing through the fine fabric of his slacks and embedding itself into his skin.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Barry asked in concern, rushing to his brother’s side.

“The glasses! I forgot the glasses!” his brother yelped, trying to rise to his feet but stopping when his movement only caused the glass to ground deeper into his flesh.

He held up a hand in a halting gesture, backing toward the door. “It’s going to be okay. Just…stay there. Dr. Harrison is at the party. I’ll find him and send him in.”

Eddie’s voice was desperate when he cried, “Wait! Iris…she’s waiting for me. I can’t just leave her like this! It’ll break her heart!”

Barry sighed. “I’ll take care of it. Just…don’t move.”

It took a few minutes for him to locate the doctor and discretely direct him to the library, following behind in case anything else was needed. Unsurprisingly, Eddie’s injuries would require several stitches, so he was dispatched to the emergency room with quiet efficiency, leaving Barry to break the news to Iris.

He was going to head to the solarium straight away when, on second thought, he decided to swing by the caterer to get a bottle of champagne and two glasses. She would be heartbroken enough to see him and not his brother. No reason not to try to soften the blow.

As he approached the solarium, he saw Iris through the thick glass windows. Her head was thrown back as she gazed up at the twinkling lights, a smile bright enough to rival the heavens themselves upon her face. She looked so happy, he almost hated to walk through the door and ruin it. But the alternative was for her to be stood up, returning home confused and brokenhearted, wondering why Eddie failed to ever show.

So, mustering a smile, he let himself into the solarium and felt his heart twist in his chest when her beaming smile fell at the sight of him. “Sorry. Just me,” he murmured apologetically as he walked toward her. “Eddie…he isn’t going to be able to make it.”

“Oh. I see,” she murmured, looking crestfallen.

Unable to bear her disappointment, he rushed to explain, “He wanted to be here. It’s just…on the way here, he had a little accident. He – ah – he sat on a champagne flute.”

Her eyes went wide with alarm. “On a _champagne flute_?” she repeated, as though she wasn’t entirely certain whether to believe him. “How does that even happen?”

“Ah…it’s apparently an occupational hazard?” he offered, not really sure himself why his brother had thought carrying glass flutes in his back pocket was a good idea.

Clearly still trying to process the nature of the injury, she offered tentatively, “Okay, well…where is he? Should I go see him?”

“He’s in the ER, but the doctor assured me he’ll be fine. He’s just getting a few stitches,” Barry reassured her, focusing on uncorking the champagne and pouring two glasses. “But he did want me to send his apologies. You can see him tomorrow, if you want.”

Iris’s mouth twisted and her gaze fell as she accepted the flute he held out to her. “Well…thank you for telling me. I suppose it’s getting late, anyway. I should probably turn in…”

“I’m a poor replacement, I know,” he acknowledged with a wry smile, causing her to gasp.

“Oh, it isn’t that! It’s…” She broke off, scraping her lower lip with her teeth. “Okay, it isn’t that _precisely_ ,” she acknowledged, her voice slightly apologetic. “He’s just so…so… _perfect_. You know?”

“Yup,” he agreed flatly. “That’s my brother. Mister Perfect.” He threw back the champagne in one gulp and then set his glass aside, holding his arms out to her. “Anyway, it seems a shame for you to cut your evening short. How about a dance?” She hesitated, so he said encouragingly, “Come on; we’re here anyway. We might as well.”

Iris’s smile grew sheepish. “Oh, all right,” she capitulated, not entirely with good grace.

It reminded him so much of the time a younger, injured Iris had grudgingly agreed to let him carry her home, he almost laughed and pointed out the similarity in response. In the end, he held his tongue, afraid that doing so would cause her to end the evening early. Or, worse, hurt her feelings. Instead, he waited as she took his hand. She stepped into the frame created by his arms as they began to dance to the music filtering through the glass windows.

He didn’t want to remind her of the last time she’d compared him to his brother and found him wanting, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t tease her just a little. Just enough to hopefully make her smile. “Careful, Miss West. You’re in danger of sweeping me straight off my feet,” he joked lightly, noting her answering blush.

“I don’t mean to be rude.”

“I know,” he reassured her in a soft voice. And suddenly, he didn’t want to talk about Eddie anymore. He didn’t want to think about the inevitable future she would face if she continued down this path. He didn’t want to imagine how brokenhearted she would be, after loving his brother for so long. So instead, he spun with her in his arms, tightening his hold on her hand and spinning her away from him, giving her an extra twirl. The music faded outside the windows as the song came to an end, but he pretended not to notice, twirling her again.

Her laughter filled the room and warmed his soul, bouncing off the windows that surrounded them. In her joy, she threw back her head to look at the lights twinkling overhead. Following her gaze, he noted that they shone like stars. He twirled her over and over until she collapsed against him, struggling to breathe through her ragged gasps of laughter.

Sliding one arm around her waist, he pulled her close, smiling when he felt her head fall against his chest. Drawing her hand in, he trapped their hands between their bodies, slowing the dance until they were swaying gently back and forth. As Iris’s mirth subsided, music from the party drifted through the windows once more.

 _“Maybe it’s much too early in the game. Ah, but I thought I’d ask you just the same. What are you doing New Year’s, New Year’s Eve?”_ Iris lifted her head off his chest, her eyes meeting his. Their faces were inches apart, and her laughter died in her throat. _“Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight, when it’s exactly twelve o'clock that night. Welcoming in the New Year, New Year’s Eve.”_

“Bartholomew,” she breathed.

“Barry. Please,” he corrected her.

Nodding slightly, she whispered, “Barry,” and he realized in that moment that they had stopped dancing entirely. Flushing, she cleared her throat and tried more forcefully, “We – maybe we shouldn’t be doing this. I should – I should turn in.”

“But we haven’t finished our dance,” he murmured, beginning to sway once more.

_“Maybe I’m crazy to suppose I’d ever be the one you chose. Out of the thousand invitations you received.”_

He liked having her in his arms, he realized. More than he’d anticipated. He should be thinking solely of nipping this problem with his brother in the bud. He should be thinking of sparing Iris her future heartache. But he realized now that he hadn’t asked her to dance because he wanted to distract her from thoughts of Eddie or to delay the inevitable. He’d asked her to dance because, simply speaking, he wanted to. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to twirl her around and dance with her under lights that shone like twinkling stars.

_“Ah, but in case I stand one little chance, here comes the jackpot question in advance. What are you doing New Year’s, New Year’s Eve? Oh, what are you doing New Year’s, New Year’s Eve?”_

“The song’s over,” she pointed out in an undertone.

“I know,” he agreed, though he didn’t let her go, and she didn’t move away.

Their bodies were so close that he could feel the rise and fall of her chest when she sucked in a deep breath. “Eddie’s…I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember. I thought I was over it. Over him. But…”

“But you’re not,” he finished for her, his words a statement and not a question.

“Are you,” she hesitated and swallowed heavily before continuing, “are you here to _deal_ with me?” At his confused look, she disentangled herself from his arms, walking away and keeping her back to him as she explained, “I know how it works. I’ve seen it before. I grew up in this world, remember?” Throwing a look at him over her shoulder, she continued, “On the outskirts of it, at least. Eddie attaches himself to a _deeply unsuitable_ girl – like the daughter of an employee – and she gets offered a generous cash settlement if she only agrees to bow out quietly.”

“You think I’m fooling myself that you could be bought? How much were you thinking I planned to offer? A million? Two?”

Lifting her chin, she said firmly, “I’d never accept it, you know.”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, looking around for the bottle to refill the champagne. “I’d never offer it.”

“Even though I’m deeply unsuitable?” she prodded dubiously.

He laughed, offering her a flute once more. “You? Unsuitable? Look at you. You’re incredible.”

Sipping champagne, she swallowed heavily and admitted, “I wanted it to be me, you know? Just once.” Though he didn’t need her to explain, she did anyway. “I know he brings all the girls here, to drink champagne and dance in his arms. I just – I wanted it to be me.”

“I know,” he said in a voice almost too soft to be heard.

With forced lightness, she held out her flute for him to refill once more, saying, “You know, in all the years I’ve lived here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance. I’ve certainly never seen you come out here with champagne to ask a girl to dance with you.”

He smiled slightly, acknowledging the point. “That’s because I’ve never done it,” he explained.

“You’ve never had to, you mean,” alluding once again to her suspicion his actions were a ploy.

“Is it so hard to believe I’d want to share a drink and a dance with the most beautiful woman at the party?”

She laughed derisively, the sound echoing off the solarium windows and breaking his heart. “I’m sorry, but yes. That is hard to believe.”

Barry put his champagne flute aside. “Then I guess you don’t really know me at all. Anyway, I shouldn’t take up any more of your time. You can see Eddie tomorrow.”

Whatever she saw in his face or heard in his voice seemed to make her second-guess herself, because her forced broke off as he started to leave, and she reached out to grab his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

Pulling his mouth into a tight smile, he reassured her, “You didn’t. Good night, Iris.”

“Good night, Barry,” she whispered as he strode through the solarium door and into the cold night air.


	4. Chapter 4

Iris awoke early the next morning and bounded out of bed, excited about the day ahead – and her chance to see Eddie again. Dressing with him in mind, she carefully applied her makeup and then headed toward the main part of the house. As she approached the family’s bedrooms, she bumped into Barry walking her way. She almost didn’t recognize him at first, dressed as he was in blue jeans and a high-neck black sweater. Even when he wasn’t dressed in a suit, he’d worn slacks with button-up shirts from the time he was a child.

“I was coming to see you,” he said with a smile that was reminiscent of his brother’s, with its surprising boyishness. “I thought you might want to see Eddie.”

“Can I?” she breathed excitedly, trailing behind him as they made their way to the injured man’s room. When she walked in, she found him asleep on his stomach, his arms pillowed beneath his head as he let out a tremendous snore.

Kneeling beside the bed, she tried to wake him but it did no good.

Barry approached on the other side, putting his hand on his brother’s shoulder and giving it a hard shake. “Eddie!”

A snore broke off with a splutter, and Eddie’s eyes fluttered open. When he saw her, he broke into a wide grin. “Iriiiis! Heeeeey!” he said, drawing out both words in a way that left no doubt he was still firmly under the influence of pain medicine. “Wow. You’re so pretty. Have I told you that? You’re so pretty.”

“Um, thank you,” she replied, throwing Barry a desperate look in light of Eddie’s rambling. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

“Why? Should I be?” he asked with a vague look. She reached for him, drawing his attention back to her, and he marveled at the sight of her hand. “Your haaaand!” he explained with joyous rapture, nuzzling her hand with his cheek. When he opened his mouth and scraped his teeth against her knuckles, she instinctively pulled away.

Its sudden absence seemed to draw his attention back to her face, and he whispered loudly, “You won’t believe what happened to me!”

“I know,” she told him gently. “I heard. Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m okay! Are you okay?” he asked with a level of concern greater than was warranted under the circumstances.

“I’m okay,” she reassured him.

Undeterred, he threw a look over his shoulder at his brother. “And you, Barry? How are you?”

“I’m okay,” he added quickly, sounding like he was trying not to laugh.

Iris shot Barry another quick look before turning her attention back to the injured man. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

Before his brother could interject, Eddie looked at her in confusion, asking, “Why? Am I hurt?”

Barry cleared his throat, the sound bearing a remarkable resemblance to a snort of laughter. “I hired a nurse to come in and check on you in a little bit, and the doctor said you’ll be back to your old self again in a couple days.” Looking at Iris, he explained in an undertone, “He really should get some rest.”

“I understand,” she said regretfully, slowly rising to her feet. “I’ll be back in a little while to check on you. Okay?”

“Okay, Iris!” he replied agreeably before getting distracted once more, this time by the sound of her name as he repeated it several times, as though testing the feel of it on his tongue. “Iiiiiiiris. Irissssss. Iriiiiiiis.”

“Get some sleep,” Barry directed him, taking Iris’s arm and leading her out of the room. Seeing the look of concern on her face, he said comfortingly, “The doctor gave him something pretty strong for the pain, but I’m sure he’ll be in a better state the next time you see him.”

“Okay,” she said dubiously, trying to mask her disappointment. Nothing that had happened with Eddie since her return had gone the way she’d hoped.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Barry rocked back on his heels and seemed to read her mind when he said, “You know…I feel bad that things haven’t gone the way you wanted since you came home. I’m not Eddie, but…I do have the day off. We could spend it together. If you want.” When she hesitated, he added, “I was actually just on my way to pick up a Christmas tree for the house. Want to come?”

“You don’t have a tree already?” she asked skeptically, narrowing her eyes at him. “I thought I saw one at the party last night, and Christmas is in la few days!”

He shook his head. “That one was for guests. I’m talking about one for the family. We’ve been planning to get one, but something always seemed to come up. I unexpectedly found myself with the day off, so I thought I’d take advantage of it while I’ve got the chance.” She was tempted, but she wasn’t sure she should abandon Eddie like this. As she threw one last look over her shoulder toward Eddie’s room and tried to think of the words to politely decline Barry’s offer, he said encouragingly, “Come on, it’ll be fun! Plus, I remember how much you love decorating Christmas trees.”

Iris let out a small burst of astonished laughter, falling into step beside him. “You remember that?”

“I remember lots of things,” he assured her.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she lifted her eyebrows and demanded, “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Barry pressed his lips together as he considered her challenge. “Like…on your first Christmas here, your dad gave you this bright red bicycle with those multicolored streamers hanging from the handlebars and a basket in front. And you jammed a water bottle between the frame and the back wheel so it would sound like a motorcycle when you raced across the lawn as fast as you could.”

Letting out another incredulous laugh, Iris shook her head. “I can’t believe you remember that! I haven’t thought about that bike in…wow… _years_ , I guess. I loved that thing so much, but I didn’t realize I was caught in the act. I’m glad you never told me; I might have died of mortification.”

Lost in his memories, Barry threw her a wistful smile and admitted, “Oh, yeah. I used to stand at the window and watch you ride, and I’d think about how much I wanted to go out there and join you.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked, leaning in to nudge him with her arm. Before they could make contact, she remembered who she was talking to and veered away again. “I probably wouldn’t have turned you down.”

He pulled a face and replied, “Too many things to do, I guess.”

Iris stopped abruptly, her sudden lack of movement drawing his notice, and she waited until he turned to face her to say, “You’ve always been so serious. Even when you were younger. You never wanted to be a bit more like Eddie? Just let yourself relax and just have a little fun?”

“Oh, sure,” he admitted with just a twinge of jealousy and perhaps even a touch of bitterness in his voice. “Eddie can afford to relax. I can’t.” When she began to protest, he shook his head. “A lot of people depended upon my dad. Which means they now depend on me. I understood the weight of that, even when I was younger. It’s…it’s a lot to carry. I don’t have the luxury of spending my days running around, just wanting to have fun, like Eddie does. And he can keep doing it because I’ll always be here making sure everyone is taken care of, always ready to pick up the pieces of everything he leaves broken in his wake.”

She didn’t know how to reply, fixing him with a helpless look, and so he retreated behind the polite mask he showed to the world and admitted, “Damn. Now I probably owe _you_ an apology. I shouldn’t have gone on like that. Poor little rich boy, right? Forget I said anything.”

“No!” she blurted, putting her hand on his arm. “Don’t apologize. I’m…I’m glad you told me, actually.” It helped her to understand him, but that left her feeling confused and a little unsettled in turn. She’d never have thought that he carried the weight of such burdens even as a child. What else didn’t she know about him?

In an effort to dispel the tension that had arisen between them, Iris announced, “You know what? I _will_ help you to pick out a Christmas tree. But don’t be surprised if it’s the biggest and – this is important, so don’t think I’m not serious about this – _heaviest_ one on the lot. I like sturdy trees. The fuller the better.”

Laughing, Barry agreed, “Consider me duly warned! You ready to go now, or—”

“Let me run and change into something a little more comfortable, and I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes. Okay?”

He nodded and she raced back to her room to change clothes, her heart racing at the prospect of Christmas tree hunting that lay ahead. And maybe, just a little, of spending more time in Barry’s company. But she chose not to think about that.

Three hours later, Iris was tempted to regret her decision as they stood together on the porch and gave the front door a considering look. “You know,” Barry finally ventured, “I’m not sure this is going to fit.”

“I told them to wrap it as tight as they could,” she reminded him in a weak voice, looking from the opening to the massive tree propped between them.

“Still…” he began, the full measure of his doubt evident in that single syllable.

Iris stepped back, craning her neck to look around. “Do you think we could take it through a window, maybe?”

Barry threw her an incredulous look. “You think we’re going to have better luck with a window than a door?”

It didn’t seem likely, when he put it like that, but she wasn’t willing to give up so easily. “Maybe?”

He grunted. “I doubt it, and if we’re wrong and break the glass, my mother will kill us both. We’d better stick with the door.”

Iris pursed her lips and considered the situation in greater detail. “Okay, then…maybe if we just go carefully, we can make this work.”

He looked at her, at the tree, at the door, and back at her again. Finally, he said decisively, “Right. Okay. Let’s…hm. You take the front and I’ll take the trunk. Or would it be easier on you to go the other way around? The trunk is heavier, but it’s easier to grab, and—”

“I’ll take the front,” she interjected, tilting the tree toward her so she could do so. “Got it?”

He grunted and she felt the weight of the tree shift as he lifted his end. “Great. Now I think…let’s rotate the tree about…twenty-three degrees. It looks a little less full at that angle.”

Iris had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. “Really? Twenty-three degrees?” she teased him.

He flashed her a quick smile and slowly turned the tree to the angle he’d determined would be best. “There. You got it?”

“Yup!” she assured him, slowly stepping backwards up the front steps toward the door.

“Careful! There’s a step and…yup, you got it. Now one more…okay, good. Just keep going slow, and let me know if you need to take a break.”

“I got it,” she grunted, though she stopped just outside the threshold and gave the tree another considering look. They had been directed to wrap the Douglas fir, but it was so large (and, perhaps more importantly, so _full_ ), it was already breaking through its tethering. Maybe she should have gone with something a little smaller, upon reflection. “You know what? You should go first, so we’re pulling against the grain. Otherwise, we’re more likely to break off branches if they catch on the doorway.”

“Good thinking,” he replied agreeably, slowly turning in a half-circle so that he was backing through the door. Working together, they managed to get the tree safely inside. With a bit more work, they got it put up in the family room – the room’s high ceilings miraculously tall enough to accommodate the size of the tree they’d brought home.

“What do you think?” Barry asked, standing back.

Iris gave it a critical look, pursing her lips as she tried to decide if it was standing straight enough. Eventually, she delivered her verdict. “Looks good to me. But we’re going to need a couple of ladders to start stringing the lights.”

Looking pained at this reminder, he repeated, “The lights. Right. Remind me why we didn’t do it _before_ we put up the tree?”

Throwing him an unrepentant grin, she replied, “We can’t exactly do it when the tree is still tied up, can we? Anyway, you do have a ladder, right? Actually, two of them would be better. That way, you can take one side and I’ll take the other.”

“Ah…sure. I’m sure we…do. Probably.” He didn’t sound very sure of himself.

It took several minutes for Barry to track down a member of staff to ask about the ladders – and several minutes more for the ladders in question to be produced. But eventually, they were safely erected on either side of the tree, and Barry and Iris worked together to string the lights, the entire process being a far more difficult undertaking than originally anticipated.

“Okay, can you reach?” Barry asked, stretching out his arm as far as he could.

“Almost…just a little more…there!” she cried in exultation as she relieved him of the length of twinkling lights, stringing them on her side of the tree before passing them back over on the other side. Eventually, they had covered enough of the tree to be able to climb down from their perches, and Barry finished with the lights while Iris dug into the crates of Christmas ornaments, looking for the star.

“What ne-oh,” he broke off as she pulled out the star in question and brandished it victoriously in his direction. “Okay, I’ll put it up. You let me know if it looks straight.”

He clambered up the ladder while she waited below, critically assessing his efforts. “Left…oh, sorry, my left. A little more…a little more. Okay, now a touch right…it’s tilting just a little backwards now…not quite… _there_!” she cried happily when he got it just right.

After the tree came the ornaments, Iris and Barry unwrapping each carefully before hanging them on the tree. As they worked, they chatted about the last few years. Iris told him about her classes, about work, and about the holidays she’d spent overseas with her dad. In turn, he told her about life back at home, his last few months with his father, and what it was like to take over the family business.

“Okay, so tell me. If you didn’t grow up knowing you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps one day, what would you want to be doing? You can choose any profession in the world.”

Barry seemed to consider the question, surprising Iris with the realization it apparently wasn’t something he’d pondered before. “Honestly? My science classes were always my favorite in school. Maybe something with that?”

“Oh, like an epidemiologist or something? Maybe a researcher?”

He nodded. “Or a CSI. Those are sexy, right?” He mimed pulling off a pair of invisible sunglasses as he declared in an overdramatic growl, “I bet _he_ didn’t expect to die today.”

Iris lost it, the image he posed so ridiculous that she was swept into peals of laughter, throwing back her head in delight. “You didn’t just do that! Please tell me you didn’t just do that!”

Though he pretended to be hurt, she could see the grin lurking at the corners of his mouth. “You don’t buy it? Ah, well. Guess it’s good I do what I do instead.”

“And what is that? Exactly.”

He threw her a pointed look, rubbing his hands together and made another poor attempt at mimicry when he replied, “The same thing I do every night, Iris. Try to take over the wooooorld.”

That sent her over the edge again. It wasn’t just because his imitation was so bad (although it was), but this light-hearted silliness was so far from the image of him she’d always carried of him in her mind. She collapsed against the couch, covering her face with her hands, her stomach hurting from laughing too much. “Stop!” she finally managed to gasp. “Stop! I can’t take it anymore!”

“Okay, okay,” he agreed, looking entirely too proud of himself as he flung himself onto the seat next to her. When she had finally regained control of herself, wiping tears from her eyes, he nodded towards the tree. “Looks pretty good, West. Don’t you think?”

Iris threw the Christmas tree an assessing look. “Yeah. It does. We did good, Allen.”

He propped his elbow against the back of the couch and turned toward her, giving her his full attention as he asked, “So, what do you want to do next?” When she looked at him in surprise, he reminded her, “I do have the entire day off, remember?”

She nodded. “All right, well…what are our options?”

Barry considered the question. “We could always build a snowman, of course. We could run out and get the stuff to build a gingerbread house; I’ve always wanted to try that. We could watch some old Christmas movies on television. Orrrr…,” he drew out the word thoughtfully, “we could roast chestnuts by the fire?”

She lifted her eyebrows at him. “Roasting chestnuts? Have you ever done that before?”

“No,” he admitted. “And now that you mention it, I’m not sure we even have chestnuts. Or that I’d recognize them, if we did. What do chestnuts look like, anyway? But we probably have marshmallows. Those will do in a pinch, right?”

She chuckled, and agreed, “I can’t fault that logic.” A quick glance out the window revealed a darkening sky, and she sighed. “It’s too bad there aren’t more hours in the day, because it all sounds like fun. But since it’s getting late, I choose…cheesy Christmas movies, eggnog if you have it, and roasted marshmallows. Sound good to you?”

“Sounds great!” he replied, jumping to his feet. “I’ll go gather supplies.” The wind had picked up outside, whipping against the windows, so he suggested almost as an afterthought, “Do you want to grab a couple of those thick blankets from the hall closet? I’ll get the fire going in here, but I know how cold you get.”

Iris started to comply, but she stopped short when the importance of his words sunk in. Halting in the doorway, she asked, “How do you… Even when we were kids, you always knew the perfect gift to get me for Christmas. You paid attention to the little things, like the fact I wanted to pretend my bike was a motorcycle. You brought me soup when I was sick and snuck me extra cookies from the kitchen when I was having a bad day. It’s like you noticed me, even when nobody else did. How do you do that?”

Barry looked at her in surprise. “I’ve always seen you, Iris.”

Meanwhile, she’d never seen anyone but Eddie. The realization made her feel a tiny ball of shame in the pit of her stomach, and she blinked to fight back an inexplicable sheen of tears. She once again remembered what he had said to her the day she had sprained her ankle out in the woods. _“It’s just, I thought for once…I thought you saw_ me _.”_

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, remembering how horrible she’d been to him. How she’d told him to his face that she wished he had been his brother. Hell, earlier that evening, she’d basically implied he should be more like Eddie. How could she have been so horrible to him when he’d never been anything but kind to her in return?

“For what?” he asked, confused.

“For being so focused on Eddie, I never really saw _you_.”

He seemed embarrassed by her regard, his cheeks growing pink as he looked away. “It’s okay,” he mumbled sheepishly. “I’m used to it. And it doesn’t really matter. I’m not—”

“No,” she told him firmly, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly in her own. “It does matter. I may not have seen you before, but I do now.”

His answering smile was lopsided, uncertain, but she could swear she saw a brief flash of hope in his eyes. “Oh. Well…thank you,” he finally managed, seemingly at a loss for words. Then, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, he said awkwardly, “You know, I should probably get on tracking down those marshmallows…”

“Right,” she agreed, releasing him, her own cheeks growing pink with embarrassment at the moment they’d just shared. “And I’ll get those blankets.”

They spent the next few hours wrapped up in thick blankets, their legs stretched out before them and a huge bowl of popcorn between them as they watched _Elf_ (which was Iris’s choice) and _The Muppet Christmas Carol_ (which was his). As the opening scene of _It’s a Wonderful Life_ started to play, Iris grabbed the bag of marshmallows and the roasting fork Barry had brought for her a moved closer to the fire. A few seconds later, Barry followed.

While Clarence got up to speed on the story of the young George Bailey, Iris gave her speared marshmallow a thoughtful look. “You know, now that I think about it, I’m not really sure roasted marshmallows are very Christmassy.”

Barry made a soft, thoughtful hum in the back of his throat as he held his marshmallow over the flame. “Why not? Marshmallows are in hot chocolate. We roast things on Christmas. Seems plenty Christmassy to me.”

She snorted. “I’m not really sure your logic on that is very sound,” she pointed out, nudging him with her elbow.

He chuckled. “I don’t know. It sounded pretty good in my head.”

While they joked, his roasting fork got closer and closer to the flame, and Iris watched as marshmallow it held finally caught fire. He let out a soft yelp of surprise and yanked it back, blowing it out, prompting her to grin at him over her shoulder. “You know, they’re supposed to be _roasted_ marshmallows. Not marshmallows _en flambé._ ”

“How do you know this wasn’t intentional? Maybe they’re better this way!” he protested, taking a big bite to prove his point, though she laughed at the look on his face when the blackened marshmallow hit his tongue. Some people liked blackened marshmallows, but somehow she’d already known he wasn’t one of them.

If she wasn’t so distracted, she might have wondered how she knew that about him, when she could have sworn she’d never paid him much attention at all until now.

“You are such a dork!” she said with a laugh. “All right, I’ll show you how it’s done.” Pulling her marshmallow from the fire, she saw that it was toasted a perfect light brown (exactly like he liked it – though it didn’t register with her that she knew _that_ either). It was sticky against her fingers as she pulled it off the fork, pinching it between her forefinger and thumb as she held it out for him to bite. As she held it to his lips, their eyes met over her hand, and she caught her breath, realizing only belatedly the suggestive nature of the act.

Perhaps she should have held it out for him to take, instead, but it was too late to back down now. That would look even more suspicious, calling attention to her awareness of the moment. Swallowing heavily, she forced herself to keep her hand in place as he leaned forward, taking the marshmallow between his lips.

At that point, as much as she would have liked to yank her hand away, the marshmallow was too sticky, requiring more finesse. She didn’t know what prompted her to do what she did next. Once she had slowly pulled her hand away, she lifted her thumb to her mouth, scraping her skin with her teeth to remove the remnants of toasted marshmallow, her eyes locked on Barry’s the entire time. “Isn’t that better?”

He nodded, his voice thick as he replied, “Much.”

She was flirting with danger. She was flirting with _him_. What was she doing? She was in love with Eddie! She’d always been in love with Eddie! And yet she hadn’t even spared a single thought to his condition since leaving his bedroom earlier that day. How could she betray him like this?

Angry at herself and her stupid, fickle heart, Iris set the bag of marshmallows aside and stood, tossing her blanket onto the couch. “You know…it’s getting late. I should go to bed.”

“So soon?” he asked in alarm, scrambling to his feet in turn. “We haven’t even broken out the eggnog yet!”

“Some other time,” she demurred. Suspecting he was about offer to walk her back to her room, she flicked her tongue against her lower lip and offered the first excuse that came to mind to forestall him. “I should go check on Eddie anyway. I’m worried about him.”

Barry looked away, as she’d somehow known he would. Lifting one hand to rub the back of his head, he offered, “You know…there are still plenty of things we didn’t get around to today, and I bet Eddie will still be under the weather. I could take tomorrow off, too, if you wanted.”

She shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that,” she protested weakly, realizing she’d wanted to say yes.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. It’s as much for me as for you. I don’t take a lot of time off usually, and I could probably use the break.”

She should tell him no. She absolutely should. Her heart belonged to Eddie, so why did part of her leap at the thought of spending more time with his brother? But instead of turning him down, she offered a feeble, “Well, I suppose if you were thinking of doing it _anyway_ …”

He broke into a wide grin. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said cheerfully. Leaning down, he brushed a soft kiss against her cheek. “Night, Iris.”

Her breath caught at the touch of his lips against her skin. Feeling off-balance and uncertain, she whispered in return, “Good night, Barry.”


	5. Chapter 5

When Iris’s eyes fluttered open the next morning, it was with the vague feeling that something had awoken her, but she couldn’t bring whatever it was to mind. She was warm and toasty in bed, and though the light coming through her bedroom windows was bright, she told herself that could just be due to its reflection off the fallen snow.

So what could have awakened her? As she debated the various merits of going back to sleep or staying awake to ponder the mystery further, she heard the soft thump of snow against her windowpane. That must have been it.

Dragging her body out of bed, her mind clouded with a sense of muddled confusion, she headed over to the window and peered outside just as another snowball struck the side of the house with a wet thud. Pulling the curtains aside, she looked down into the yard to see Barry beneath her window, bundled up in a thick coat, heavy scarf, and woolen hat. The moment he caught sight of her face, she saw him break into a wide grin, gesturing wildly for her to come out to join him. Laughing lightly, Iris rushed to dress, wrapping a scarf around her neck and buttoning her coat as she headed outside.

It didn’t even occur to her that she hadn’t yet checked on Eddie.

“What is this about?” she demanded with feigned affront, bracing her hands on her hips.

Barry took her show of indignation in stride. “We’re making a snowman! Come on!”

As he stooped to scoop some snow into a ball, Iris followed suit, the first touch of icy snow against her palms an immediate reminder that she’d neglected to pull on her gloves. Stopping just long enough to do so, she threw herself into her task, barely noticing as the chill soaked through her jeans where she knelt to build up the body of the snowman. When it grew large enough, she tried to roll it, but the heavy weight of it quickly became too much for her, her feet scrabbling uselessly in the snow when she tried to give it a push.

Iris giggled, collapsing on top of her creation, and Barry bounded up next to her, as enthusiastic as a puppy. “Need help?” he asked. She nodded and was almost disappointed when he took position next to her, rather than framing her body in his arms. Did she really long for him to hold her? She tried not to give that urge too much thought.

With his help, they pushed it until she decreed it the perfect size before tackling the second piece of the body and the head. Once completed, Barry lifted the snowballs into position while Iris packed snow between them so they would remain in place. It took a few tries, but eventually, the snowman stood on its own, and the two of them stepped back to fix it with a critical eye. “Hmmm,” she murmured, pondering its absent face. “I don’t suppose you have a bunch of coal lying around, do you?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his lips twitch as he demanded indignantly, “Just how bad do you think I’ve been this year?”

Feigning innocence she replied, “I don’t know, but I thought I should keep my options open!” He let out a small bark of laughter, and she suggested, “Okay, no coal. How about…you see if you can find some rocks for the eyes and mouth, and I’ll track down a couple branches for the arms.”

“Deal,” he agreed, racing off to perform his task. Meanwhile, Iris headed for the woods, keeping her eye open for branches that were just the right size. Several minutes passed before she found what she was looking for, distracted as she was by the quiet stillness of the forest around her. Once she turned her attention back to the task at hand, she saw the perfect branch above her head, sagging low under the heavy weight of snow.

Reaching overhead, she grabbed the branch in one hand, giving it a hard yank to pull it closer. The sharp tug jostled the tree, which unloaded what felt like a mountain of snow onto her head. Iris let out a loud yelp of surprise as the thick coat of white cascaded upon her head and down the back of her coat, her feet sliding out from under her.

Landing hard upon the ground, she blinked in astonishment, trying to process the strange sequence of events and shivering at feel of snow against the back of her neck. She was about to get to her feet to rise again when she heard Barry shout her name.

“Iris!” he cried, racing through the trees to get to her. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” she asked, taken by surprise. “Yeah, of course. I just fell.”

Kneeling in the snow by her side, he explained, “Oh, I thought you might have sprained your ankle again. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m okay,” she reassured him gently, touched by his concern. She didn’t protest as he took her hands in his and helped her rise to her feet. Her eyes met his, and she sucked in a ragged breath, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she found herself swaying closer, the warmth of his breath on her cheek drawing her in.

Their noses met, brushed, and she froze, her mouth barely an inch from his. She couldn’t do this. It wasn’t right. Was it? “We should – we should finish our snowman,” she breathed. But still, she didn’t pull away.

“Right,” he agreed, his forehead pressing against hers as their noses brushed together once more.

Acting on impulse, she stretched up, pressing her lips to his cheek instead. “Thank you for coming to make sure I’m okay, though,” she said, as though in explanation, as she rocked back on her heels.

Her action had broken the tension that had built between them, and he smiled down at her. “No problem.” He helped her retrieve the sticks of her choice and followed her back to the snowman, seemingly as eager as she to pretend that nothing untoward had almost happened between them.

Unless…he hadn’t felt the same urge to kiss her that she’d felt to kiss him? What a depressing thought. Caught up in these reflections, her mood was subdued as they returned to the snowman, but Barry didn’t seem to notice. He applied the eyes and mouth while she added the arms, and then they stood side by side as they considered their creation once more.

“I don’t know. It still feels like it’s missing something,” he remarked with a troubled frown. When she remained silent, he shot her a look out of the corner of his eye and said, “I know!” Pulling his scarf from around his neck, he looped it around the snowman and tied it in a knot, drawing away with a grunt of satisfaction.

“You know, it could probably use a nose,” she offered in a flat voice when he still seemed dissatisfied. “You wouldn’t happen to have a carrot, would you?”

“Good question. Let’s find out.” Grabbing her by the hand, he led her into the house, heading directly to the kitchen. Once there, he went in search of a carrot while she approached what looked like a pile of groceries on the kitchen counter. “I don’t see a carrot, but would an eggplant do?” he called, his head still buried in the refrigerator. “Or how about…oh, no, that’s no good. What even is this? Green pepper?”

“What’s this?” she asked, staring at the objects in question rather than investigate the state of what sounded like possibly some very dubious vegetables.

Her question drew his attention, distracting him from his task. “Oh,” he replied sheepishly as he joined her side. “Well, I thought it would be fun to build a gingerbread house, so I went out this morning and got everything I thought we would need.”

“I’d say!” she said in amazement. “You got enough to make a whole village!” But even as she spoke, she pulled off her gloves and shrugged out of her coat, tossing it on the back of a chair. Unlooping her scarf from around her neck, she tossed it aside as well, all but pushing up her sleeves as she turned to the items in question. When Barry didn’t move right away, she prodded him, “Well? Are we doing this or aren’t we?”

The unfinished snowman forgotten, Barry grinned and shrugged out of his own coat, tossing it on top of hers. “Okay, why don’t you get everything set up and I’ll heat up some hot chocolate. I assume you want mini-marshmallows in yours?”

She threw him a skeptical look. “Is it really hot chocolate without them?”

“Good point!” They each focused on their respective tasks for the next several minutes, but as Barry placed her full mug of hot chocolate by her elbow (complete with six mini-marshmallows, and, yes, she checked), he asked, “Have you ever done this before?”

“Nope. You?”

“Never. Well, this should be…interesting.”

It was interesting, indeed, she decided a short while later. Not entirely successful. But interesting. “We did it! I think it’s – no!” she cried when two walls they’d been trying to cement into place for the last ten minutes collapsed for the sixth time. Throwing Barry a frustrated look, she groused, “I could have sworn the peanut butter would do the trick. It sticks to _everything_.”

“What can I say? I wanted to be a scientist, not an architect,” Barry pointed out, throwing their efforts a considering look. “You know…there’s nothing that really says we have to make a gingerbread _house_ ,” he suggested skeptically.

Pursing her lips, Iris followed his gaze and asked, “What did you have in mind?”

“Gingerbread…modern art?” he offered weakly, making her snort in response. _She actually snorted_.

“Deal,” she agreed, latching on to his suggestion like it was a lifeline. “But only if you make us some more hot chocolate!”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he grumbled good-naturedly, turning back to the stove. “I’ve dealt with lawyers who drive less ruthless bargains than that.”

“Flatterer.”

Happy to abandon their gingerbread architecture efforts, Iris waited in silence as he refreshed their drinks. She was reluctant for this time together to end, but she couldn’t think of something else to suggest to pass the time.

He seemed as eager to prolong the moment, falling into step beside her as they strolled in the general direction of the living room. “So,” he began, his voice trailing off lamely as they passed through the foyer, shoving his hands into his pockets once more. She was beginning to realize it as something he only did when he was nervous or uncertain.

“So,” she agreed, slowing to a stop. He turned to face her, and she swallowed wracking her brain to think of something more to say. He was so tall, she had to tilt her head back to look at him, her body swaying toward his. Which is when she saw it. “Uh oh.”

“Uh oh what?” he asked, following her gaze. When he saw what had caught her attention, he breathed, “Oh.” His chin dropped, their eyes meeting, and she noticed he was blushing. “You know, we don’t – it’s a silly tradition, anyway.”

He was offering her a way out, and she appreciated it. But it only made her realize that she didn’t _want_ a way out. “But it _is_ tradition,” she pointed out, resting her hand on his chest, just over his heart. Her voice dropping to a whisper, she said, “Unless you don’t want to?”

“I want to,” he breathed in return, causing her heart to race.

His hand cupped her cheek, his palm warm against her skin, and she leaned into his embrace. He tilted his head toward hers, and she caught her breath, her eyes fluttering closed. And then his mouth was on hers, his lips surprisingly tender. The kiss was supposed to be brief, but when she felt him start to draw away, she clutched the front of his shirt in her fist, silently asking him to stay.

He hesitated for just a second and then leaned in again, his hand moving from her cheek to cup the back of her head. Iris gasped, her lips parting, stretching on her toes and pressing her body against his as his tongue swept into her mouth.

She was breathing heavily by the time the kiss broke off, and the two stared at each other in silence as she tried to process what had just happened between them.

“Iris I—” he began, but a voice interrupted them.

“Iris!” Eddie cried, and she whirled around to see him hobbling toward the two of them, relying on a cane to support his weight.

“Eddie!” she gasped in surprise, jumping away from Barry. “What are you doing up?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Barry look between the two of them before drawing away. She wished she could reach out to him, but she forced herself to remain still.

“I was coming to find you,” Eddie said with that practiced smile of his. Wait, _practiced_? When had it changed from _boyish_ to _practiced_ in her mind? “I hope Barry hasn’t been boring you too much in my absence.”

Though his voice had been light and teasing, Iris felt her muscles tense as an automatic defense rose to her lips. “He hasn’t been boring me at all! We’ve been having…fun.”

Barry’s voice was flat and devoid of emotion as he said, “Yeah, but since you’re here, I really do have some work to do. See you later, Iris. Eddie.”

“You don’t have to—” she protested weakly, but he seemed not to hear her as he strolled away, not looking back even once.

Eddie shifted toward her, drawing her attention. “You know, it occurs to me…we never did get our dance in the solarium. What do you say I grab us a bottle of champagne and a couple of plastic cups from the kitchen and we head out there now?”

Torn between the longing in her heart to call after Barry and the memory of the years spent pining for the man in front of her, she asked dubiously, “Are you sure you should be drinking? You are on some pretty strong medication.”

Seemingly charmed by the thought she was worried for him, Eddie’s smile widened. “All right,” he conceded, “we don’t need to drink, but we should dance, at least.”

“And what happens next?” she blurted, unaware the question was even on her mind until she’d uttered it. But, of course, she knew what would happen next. There would be a plane flight to Martha’s Vineyard. A show on Broadway. Dinner and dancing and a carriage ride in the park. And one day, there would be diamond earrings and a goodbye. Because that was Eddie. That was what he did. And while she may have spent the last decade or more telling herself she was special, the truth was…she wasn’t. At least, she wasn’t to _him_.

“Next?” he repeated, sounding confused.

“After. What happens after the dance?”

“After?” he parroted again, as though the question was entirely foreign to him. As though he’d never before pondered the concept of time or the linear progression of events. For every event, just as there was a _before_ there would inevitably be an _after_. There was _before his injury_ and _after his injury_. There was _before she returned home_ and _after she returned home_. _Before she kissed Barry Allen in his own foyer_ and, well…

Whatever happened next, she would now forever be the Iris who existed _after_ that kiss. She lifted her hand, lightly pressing her fingers against her lower lip as she remembered the feel of his mouth against hers.

Ignorant of her thoughts, Eddie offered her his well-worn charm and admitted, “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. Can’t we worry about that later?”

He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away, pretending she hadn’t noticed his effort. Ducking her head so he wouldn’t see her confusion and the conflicting feelings in her eyes, she agreed. “Yes. Of course. We can worry about it later.”

“So, our dance…?”

“Maybe tomorrow. You really shouldn’t push it. I don’t want you to hurt yourself again.”

Eddie seemed disappointed, but he held out his arm for her to take. “My guardian angel. Okay, I’ll go, but only if you walk me back to my room.”

It was the least she could do. He’d injured himself coming to see her, so it really was the very least she could do. Plus, while her unexpected change in feelings left her reeling and uncertain, she did _like_ Eddie, underneath it all. And so she didn’t begrudge looping her arm in his or walking him slowly back to his room, her body pressed against his side.

As she took his arm, however, she felt a shiver go down her spine. “Are you okay?” he asked, feeling her sudden trembling.

Iris nodded. “Yeah, I just…cold chill. I’m one of those people who always feels cold, you know?”

“Really? I didn’t know that. But I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other, and _after our dance_ ,” he paused and threw Iris a proud grin, as though he’d just said something charming and clever, “we can spend as much time as want learning it all. And, of course, I’ll be happy to warm you up any time you want.”

She forced a laugh at his wolfish grin, as she knew he’d expected. After that, she let her mind wander as she escorted Eddie back to his room, laughing lightly whenever there was a break in the conversation that seemed to call for one. Wondering what Barry had been thinking as he’d left her standing alone under the mistletoe.


	6. Chapter 6

Iris still loved Eddie.

If he’d thought about it, he would have realized that would of course be true. She’d loved Eddie all her life. She’d loved him when she was growing up, the entire time she was away at school, and upon her return. Twenty-four hours in Barry’s company was hardly likely to make a dent in such lifelong devotion.

But, still, the thought made him feel slightly sick inside. _Iris loved Eddie_.

And Barry? Barry loved Iris.

He didn’t know when it had happened. He couldn’t put his finger on the first moment he’d fallen for her. Maybe he’d fallen in love when her earlier that day, when the two were working together to make the most pitiful gingerbread house ever erected (or, rather, not) by man. Maybe it had been the night before, when she’d told him she saw _him_ , or the night before that, when they danced under twinkling lights that shone like stars.

Maybe it had been earlier. When she was a sad girl of sixteen, trying to be brave through the pain and her heartache to be stuck with the wrong brother. Or before that, when the chauffeur’s son once tried something he shouldn’t and she’d laid him out with a punch before Barry could even get two steps in her direction. When she raced across his back lawn on her bright red bike, pretending like she was a racer in the Grand Prix. When he’d taken her to see her first horse and her eyes had grown as large as saucers, as though it was the biggest thing she’d ever encountered in her life.

Maybe he’d loved her as long as she’d loved Eddie. And just as hopelessly.

Iris loved Eddie. She would be happy with him. And maybe she’d fooled herself into thinking she saw him now, but that was just an illusion. An illusion he’d created, maybe without intending it, because he’d told himself she deserved better. Better than to love a man who was engaged to someone else. Better than to spend her days in idle boredom while the man she loved recuperated. Better than to be loved and abandoned with diamond earrings and a bracelet as a consolation prize.

But that was selfish of him, to steal away her time like that. It was arrogant of him to assume his brother’s intentions were less than pure. After all, Barry knew Iris was the most incredible woman he’d ever known. Was it so far beyond the realm of possibility that Eddie had come to realize the same thing?

So what was standing in their way, other than him? Well, him and an engagement Eddie had accused him of orchestrating. He didn’t think he had, but maybe he _was_ to blame. Maybe he’d put so much pressure on his brother to grow up, to be something he wasn’t, that Eddie had fallen into an unwanted engagement because he’d felt he had no other choice.

Well, Barry couldn’t fix everything. He couldn’t fix his own broken heart, for one. But he could fix this. The engagement was off. It would cost the company a pretty lucrative merger, but what did that matter? If it made his brother happy. If it made _Iris_ happy.

Of course, there would be repercussions. The papers had painted an image of Eddie as that of a playboy without conscience. They had gleefully predicted that his engagement would never end in a wedding. He’d left a trail of broken hearts behind him; what was one more? A diamond ring was no talisman against his reckless romantic immaturity. When the news broke that their suspicions had been proven correct, they would tear his reputation apart. He would be eviscerated in the press, and Iris would be dragged down with him.

Unless she wasn’t here to see it. Unless Barry took control of the narrative, painting a picture of lovers who had been cruelly kept apart for far too long. By his family. Maybe even by him. The press already thought he was stoic and unfeeling; they could think him a villain too. The world's first living heart donor. For the sake of business, he’d kept the two apart and shoved his brother in the direction of another woman, and his plan had almost worked. Until Eddie’s reunion with Iris had brought all those old feelings back to the surface and they realized there would never be anyone else. Under those circumstances, there would be nothing they could do but run away from it all for a while. They would celebrate their reunion, the merger would fall flat, and Barry would play the part of interfering meddler who had come to accept the inevitable when confronted with true love.

But where should they go? Where did lovers go when they wanted to get away from it all? Ah, yes. Paris. The most romantic city on Earth. Iris had spoken fondly of visiting it once with her dad; he was confident she’d be thrilled to see it again.

Ignoring the pain in his chest, he picked up the phone and dialed his secretary. “Yes, Margaret? I’m going to need you to take care of some things. A trip to Paris. No, not for me. For – for Eddie and Iris. Iris Ann West. I’ll need two tickets to Paris for…ah…could we do the day after Christmas? For two weeks? No, at least a month. You know what? Maybe leave the return open-ended; we may need to play this by ear. They’ll need an apartment. Do you think you could find something with a fireplace? Paris gets cold in the winter, and Iris—” He broke off, hating the way his voice quivered with emotion at her name. Was he doing the right thing? Could he really do this?

Outside the door, he heard her soft laugh and the low murmur of his brother’s voice as they walked past. It was enough to remind him of his purpose and strengthen his resolve. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “She hates being cold…”

“Barry, you’re still here!” Iris greeted him brightly when she came into the kitchen to grab breakfast and a cup of coffee on the morning of Christmas Eve. Then, seeing the man at his side, she’d pulled up short and blushed slightly. “Oh. Good morning to you, too, Eddie. I-I didn’t realize you – You’re looking much better today.”

“I’m feeling much better,” Eddie acknowledged with a grin, stepping forward to take her hands in his. She didn’t pull away, but she did shoot a quick look at his brother over his shoulder. “I can move around a lot better now, so Barry suggested I join the two of you for breakfast. If you don’t mind.”

“No, of course I don’t,” she replied quickly, ignoring his attempt at mild flirtation.

Turning his back to the pair for a moment as he stepped around the other side of the kitchen island, Barry hid his scowl as he refilled his cup of coffee and poured a fresh cup for her. When he was confident his feelings were safely hidden once more, he turned back around and slid the cup across the island in her direction, followed immediately by the sugar he knew she always added to her morning cup. “Actually, there’s another reason I wanted you here. I got you an early Christmas gift. Both of you.”

“Both of us?” Iris repeated, confusion warring with curiosity in her tone.

Temporarily unable to speak through the swell of heartache that threatened to steal his breath, Barry nodded. “Yes,” he finally managed. “Two tickets to Paris. For, ah, for the two of you.”

Eddie looked like he’d been hit by a two-by-four right between the eyes, and Iris didn’t look much less confused. “The – the two of us?” she repeated, as though the words had inexplicably become incomprehensible to her.

“You’ll leave the day after Christmas,” he explained, pushing the envelopes he’d received by courier that morning across the island after the untouched cup of coffee.

“For how long?” Eddie asked, clearly trying to catch up.

He tried to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. He had to look away, hiding his grimace behind his mug as he took a sip of coffee to stall for time. Once he had regained control of himself, he looked back at his brother, meeting his eyes unflinchingly. “For as long as you both want.”

Beside Eddie, Iris visibly reacted, her head drawing back as though she’d been struck. His brother might not have mentally caught up with the conversation enough to understand what was going on, but she did. He was sending them away.

Of course, he’d assumed the news would make her happy, but maybe she was simply too surprised to know how to react. Or to understand that she was finally getting what she’d always wanted. She was getting the man she loved.

“I-I don’t…I thought you—”

“I’m sorry I can’t stick around to hang out the rest of the day,” he broke in, unable to bear the thought of her repeating whatever it is she was about to say. Hating himself because she looked wounded, though he told himself she would soon be overjoyed when the truth sank in. “I’ve had fun the last couple of days, Iris. Thank you; I really needed the break. But I’ve got to get back to work now.”

“But I—” she tried again. As though unable to look at him any longer, she glanced away, but when she looked back at him, her composure had returned. Tilting her chin up slightly, her voice was a challenge when she asked, “This is awfully sudden, Barry. It isn’t like you. I know you, remember?”

“If you don’t think this is like me, then maybe you don’t know me at all,” he countered in a soft voice.

Iris scowled, but she picked up her tickets and glanced at the names. Returning Eddie’s to the counter, she slid hers into her pocket and said brightly, “I suppose I should thank you. I’ve always wanted to see Paris again. If you’ll excuse me.”

She started to turn, paused, and then swept the discarded remnants of their failed gingerbread house into her arms, tossing them into the trash on her way out the door.

A long, uncomfortable silence fell between the two brothers in her absence, until Eddie finally broke it by asking, “Okay…do you want to explain to me what’s going on?”

“I’m cancelling the engagement,” Barry explained, dumping the rest of his coffee in the sink and rinsing out the cup. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I pushed you into it. It wasn’t right of me, and you shouldn’t have to pay for my mistake.”

His younger brother just stared at him, mouth agape. Finally, he managed, “You…okay.” Giving his head a slight shake, he asked, “Is this a joke? Are you messing with me?”

“No,” Barry replied firmly, grabbing Iris’s abandoned mug to rinse it out, as well. “It isn’t a joke. I want you to take Iris to Paris. You can stay there until…until everything dies down. Stay as long as you want! Just…be happy.”

Afraid he wouldn’t be able to conceal his feelings much longer, Barry tried to scoot past his brother, intending to walk out the door. But while Eddie wasn’t likely to be running any marathons any time soon, he was able to move fast enough to cut him off. “Wait. Just tell me…Iris was right. This isn’t like you. Why are you doing this?”

He scowled, dropping his gaze, and swallowed heavily as he fought back the tears. It didn’t work the first time, so he tried again. His second attempt seemed more successful than his first, but he suspected he still didn’t entirely mask his feelings, as his voice quavered slightly when he explained, “I screwed things up, but…but I can fix it. You don’t have to marry Patty. You can—” He broke off again, pressing his lips together to keep them from trembling.

After a moment, he urged his brother in an hoarse voice, “She’s loved you all her life. You’re what she really wants. You’re what she’s always wanted! Go on. Go to Paris. Forget about Patty, forget about the merger. Just…be happy. Make _her_ happy.”

Something that almost looked like understanding dawned across his brother’s face. “I see,” he murmured softly.

Barry couldn’t bear it much longer, so he pushed past his brother and strode quickly out the door. Eddie and Iris would be leaving for Paris in two days, which meant they had a lot of packing to do. And Barry? Barry would always have work.


	7. Chapter 7

Barry was bone tired when he let himself into the house later that evening. It was Christmas Eve, a time to spend with family, and he should have returned hours earlier. Of course, every time he reminded himself of that fact, he’d found an excuse to linger, though he didn’t know which he was trying to avoid more – having to bear witness to Iris’s happiness with Eddie, or the knowledge that she would soon leave him.

His shoulders slumped with exhaustion and defeat, he hung his coat in the closet and put his wallet and keys on the table by the door. Then he loosened his tie with a vicious yank and began the long trudge to his room. Twenty-four hours. He wouldn’t be able to lose himself in work on Christmas Day as he had all afternoon, but he just had to suffer the agony of his brother’s happiness and the sight of his loss for twenty-four hours.

On his way upstairs, he decided to swing by the living room, to see if Iris was there. It would undoubtedly cause him pain to see her, but he couldn’t help himself. Whatever time there was before she left, her presence would be a delicious torture he wouldn’t be able to resist.

When he stopped in the doorway to the living room, however, he was surprised to find that not only was Iris was not inside, but Eddie was. More shockingly, he was there with Patty. He might have assumed his brother had called her over to break the news that their engagement was to be broken – Barry hadn’t been able to get in touch with her to do so – but they looked too cozy for that to be the case. She was curled against his body, his arm looped around her waist as he pressed a kiss against the side of her neck.

“Eddie? What’s – you’re here?” he blurted, stumbling into the room, his gaze darting from Eddie to Patty and then back to his brother again. He almost added _“with her?”_ but remembered the manners drilled into his head from the time he was young just in time to bite the words back.

Eddie straightened in surprise and then threw Barry a casual grin. Had Barry not been otherwise distracted by conflicting emotions of anger at the implication in the sight before him, indignation on Iris’s behalf, and perhaps a bit of relief on his own, he might have realized it was a little _too_ casual, in fact. “Well, yeah. Patty came over earlier to talk, and we decided that we’re going to take a step back and take this slowly. So we can make sure we’re in this for the right reasons, because it’s what _we_ want.”

“But you – where’s Iris?” Barry demanded.

Eddie looked preoccupied. “Iris? I’m not sure, but I think she might have left for Paris already. She seemed a little upset when I saw her earlier, and I think she said something about calling to see if she could move up her departure time.”

He had never been so furious in his entire life. “And you don’t go with her?”

His brother snorted and shook his head. “Obviously not, since I’m standing right here. I mean, why would I?”

Eddie squeezed Patty, and she shot him a quick look before she piped in, “That’s right! Eddie told me all about how she chased after him, but when that didn’t work, she made a play for you since you were the one with the power. I guess the poor thing was disappointed that she couldn’t land an Allen brother, after all.”

“Eddie said – that’s not what happened!” Barry shot back hotly, stalking towards his brother. “Why didn’t you call me? Did you at least see her before she left? Did you talk to her?”

Eddie released the woman by his side, blocking her with his body as he shrugged in a nonchalant manner. “Well, sure. I think I said goodbye or…something. I might have wished her luck.” He chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I told her I could do better than to accept my brother’s hand-me-downs. But I told her not to worry; you’ve always been very generous to my former lovers in the past, so I was sure she would be compensated for her trouble. Since it was you, I got her the usual diamond earrings and bracelet, but I went ahead and sprang for a matching necklace, as well. You can pay me back lat—”

He couldn’t take it anymore. Barry launched himself upon his brother, his fist connecting with the younger man's jaw.

As the two went down, his brother yelled victoriously, “I knew it! I knew he loved her! He just needed to admit i—urk!” His happy shout was cut off as he defended himself from his brother’s fury, the two men wrestling on the ground together.

“What is going on?” Iris’s voice from the doorway caught Barry’s attention immediately, all the fight leaving him in an instant.

Eddie scrambled to his feet, holding a hand to his newly split lip. Patty raced to his side. “Let’s go get some ice on that,” she said, taking her fiancé by the arm. As she helped him to his feet, she chided him in an urgent whisper, “I know you wanted to make him mad so he’d admit his feelings, but I didn’t realize you were going to go that far! It looked like he hit you pretty hard!”

“What can I say? He’s stubborn!” he hissed in response, pulling his hand away from his lip to check for blood. Then, as he stepped over Barry’s prostrate body on his way to the door, he glanced down and mumbled in an undertone, “And you’re welcome, big brother.” Eddie and Patty pushed past Iris and disappeared down the hall, while she walked forward to stare down at him.

Barry’s head ached from where it had slammed against the floor, and he was pretty sure his cheek would develop a pretty spectacular bruise, but he pushed himself to his feet. His hands ached to reach for her, but he didn’t dare. “You’re…you’re still here,” he mumbled sheepishly.

She lifted her eyebrows at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Of course I’m still here. Where would I be? Paris? Alone, by the way, since Eddie is engaged to someone else?”

He flinched, betraying his anxiety by lifting one hand to run it through his hair. “Listen…about that. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asked with feigned innocence. “For sending me away?”

His breath caught at the implication. Putting it like that sounded so sinister, when his motives had been, if not exactly _pure_ , then at least well-intentioned. “That wasn’t what I – I thought Eddie was what you wanted?”

She nodded, her face assuming an expression of exaggerated thoughtfulness. “Oh, I see. So you’re sorry for trying to send me away without even bothering to ask if that’s what I wanted? Or asking my opinion at all?”

Well, put like that, it actually sounded worse. “Both?” he attempted gingerly. “Definitely both.” When she didn’t respond right away, he winced and admitted, “I’m sure you’re really mad at me right now, and you have every right to be.”

Iris sighed, dropping her arms. “Honestly? I was. For most of the day. But then, eventually, a few things occurred to me, and I’m not as mad as I was. But you better not do it again. Ever.”

“A few things?” he asked hopefully. “Like what?” He stepped back, moving toward the couch, and as he hoped, she followed – though she still maintained a certain amount of distance between them.

“Well, for one…it’s Christmas. And I don’t like holding grudges on Christmas,” she admitted, sitting as far from him on the couch as she could. He managed a tight smile in response to this light joke. “But also…if you want to know the truth…I’m not sure _I_ knew what I wanted until you offered me that ticket and I realized that I – I didn’t want to leave you.”

“Really?” he breathed, feeling a spark of hope for the first time since his brother had tried to knock some sense into him with his fist. She ignored him.

“But mostly because—” Instead of finishing her thought, she seemed to change the subject. “You know, the last time I came home – before now, I mean – was for…your dad’s funeral. It was strange, because I _assumed_ Eddie would have my complete attention that day. He was such a wreck. But the truth was…I couldn’t stop watching you. You had just lost your dad, and you spent the whole funeral worrying about everyone else. Your mom. Your guests.”

She pressed her head together, giving it a small, sad shake. “I realized you were right this morning. When you said I didn’t know you at all if I didn’t realize this was exactly the kind of thing you would do. Putting up a wall between yourself and other people…giving up something you want because you think it will make someone you love happy…that’s _exactly_ what you do. That’s who you are.” For the first time since she’d entered the room, she reached for him, taking his hand in hers. “But it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to push me away.”

Tightening his hand around her own, he said, his voice thick with emotion, “I don’t want to push you away. It killed me to think I was losing you, and the only reason I could go through with it was because I thought it would make you happy. I’m – I’m so sorry. Can you ever forgive me? Can we start again?”

“Hm.” She made a soft sound in the back of her throat and rose, walking toward the television. After turning it on, she turned it to a station playing Christmas music. Then, whirling on him, she reached out her hand. “Your forgiven. This time.” Then her face relaxed into a soft smile. “If you’ll dance with me.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. Jumping to his feet, he pulled her into his arms, swaying back and forth as he listened to the singer softly croon, _“Oh, maybe I’m crazy to suppose I’d ever be the one you chose out of the thousand invitations you receive.”_

“You know, this is kind of our song,” he said unthinkingly, his lips nearly brushing against her cheek.

Iris drew back from him slightly in surprise. “It is?”

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s the song we danced to. Out in the solarium. Remember?”

She blushed her gaze dropping to his chest. “No,” she admitted, sounding slightly ashamed. “I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t notice—”

“It’s okay,” he reassured her, tucking his finger under her chin and lifting gently until she met his eyes. “It doesn’t matter; it’s in the past. What matters is you’re here with me now. I get to dance with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I don’t know how I got to be so lucky, but she actually—” He didn’t finish the thought, but he didn’t have to because he could see in her eyes that she already knew. _She actually sees me._

Unable to hold back his feelings any longer, he drew her in closer, his arms tightening of their own accord around her waist. Staring deeply into her eyes, he murmured, “I love you, you know. I think I’ve loved you for a long time.”

Iris threw him a cheeky grin. “You know, I kind of suspected,” she teased. Then, growing more serious, she admitted in a whisper, “I like I’ve loved you for a long time, too. I just didn’t want to admit it. Even to myself.”

While they danced in front of the fireplace, the grandfather clock in the next room started to chime midnight, its peals echoing through the house. It was Christmas Day, and he would be spending it with the woman he loved. How had he ever gotten so lucky? He knew he didn’t deserve her, but he would spend the rest of his life trying.

As the last chime tolled, Barry pressed his lips against hers, murmuring against her mouth, “Merry Christmas, Iris.”

She lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck, pulling him back down to her when he would have pulled away to capture his lips with her own. “Merry Christmas, Barry.”


End file.
